When The Heavens Cried For Him
by Lambent Tongues of Flame
Summary: And then he was running. He had to get away. He did not belong here. He would never belong here... This chapter: Are Deans' rescuers all that they seem? Chapter 4 coming soon.
1. Chapter 1

Hi, this is Lambent Tongues of Flame. This is my first fanfic so be nice. We just got this episode in the UK so I decided that I just _had _to write a tag for it.

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When The Heavens Cried For Him.

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He stood. 

He just…

_Stood._

The crowbar, that was once cool and solid within his hands, slipped from his fingers and hit the floor with a dull, metallic thud…but he did not hear it.

He _could not_ hear it.

He was spent.

The blood was pounding in his ears as paused; crowbar at his feet, destroyed car in front of him. He had halted his brutal attack for now. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled up and the intense feeling that he was being watched swept across him. The wash of emotions that threatened to consume him swelled to the surface in a rush and he found himself blinking back tears.

So he blinked.

And then he was running.

He had to get away.

He did not belong here.

He would never belong here.

He would never belong anywhere.

So he ran. He ran away, the dusty red soil that covered the ground was swept up in a hazy cloud behind him as he raced from the impala, from his troubles, from Sam…

_Sam…_

He couldn't carry on like this anymore.

It had only been a week.

_He_ had been cheated, and it was _his _fault...

It shouldn't have been his Father...

_**He **_should be dead...

So he ran, not knowing where he was going and not caring. Not caring when he stumbled and tripped over an old car door next to the fence in Bobby's backyard. Not caring when he drove his foot, heel first through the wood. Not caring when he broke away the now splintered wood, ignorant of the fact that his hands now bled. And not caring whether or not anyone would notice his absence.

He ran along a country road now, the dusty red clouds he created long forgotten in the graveyard of cars as he ran. The gravel scuffled under his feet. It was the only other sound apart from his heavy breathing.

He ran to keep from screaming. To keep from screaming until his throat bled and was raw. To keep from causing more destruction to his now broken family. To keep from hurting Sammy.

He stumbled to an old tree along the country road, pressing his hand hard against the stitches in his chest, wincing as he felt his warm blood spread under his fingertips. Growling he pushed away from the tree, leaving blood fingerprints in his wake and continued on the road to nowhere, the road away from anywhere, it did not matter.

Ignoring the stinging pain in his chest, his panting from exertion and the way his legs felt like they would collapse under him within any minute, he carried on running. He carried on putting one foot in front of the other, carried on away from the car, carried on away from his brother, away from his troubles, away from his pain. The need to be anywhere but where he was now, even if it meant leaving Sam behind was lost as a choked sob broke free its fortifications.

'_I'm sorry that the last time I was with him I tried to pick a fight. I'm sorry that I spent most of my life angry at him. I mean, for all I know, he died thinking that I hate him. So, you're right. What I'm doing right now, it is too little…it's too late.'_

Another sob broke free from within him and Dean stumbled to a halt, his legs finally crumbling beneath him. It didn't register with him that glass, and gravel and dust had become embedded into his knees and hands as he had pitched forwards, slamming into the road. So lost was he with the turmoil in his soul, in his heart, that he did not notice the pain in his hands, his knees, his chest…his heart

He did not notice when it began to rain…

'_I miss him, man. And I feel guilty as hell. And I'm not alright. Not at all…But neither are you…That much I do know.'_

And now, alone on the country road Dean pulled himself towards a tree. There leaning his weary bones against the solid wood he sat letting the heavens rain upon him. His eyes clamped shut, closing out the world around him, closing out the too freakin' happy world around him, closing out the pain that resided within him and let the rain around him softly fall. The water left sad trails down his face where the tears, that he would not let fall, would be.

_The heavens cried for Dean Winchester._

And so he sat.

He just…

Sat.

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What do you think? Should I continue with another chapter?! I don't know…Please read and review! I would like to hear your thoughts on this one!

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	2. Chapter 2

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Hi, this is Lambent Tongues of Flame. Second Chapter! This chapter has a different type of style hope you don't mind.

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**When The Heavens Cried For Him.**

**Chapter 2.

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**

'_What more can I do to help him?'_ Sam questioned miserably walking away from his brother and the Impala. "He should just admit that he misses Dad, he should just talk to me **_god damnit_**!" He muttered angrily clenching his fists. He thrust the door to Bobby's house open, the wooden door banging harshly against the wall as he stormed through. Striding over to the fridge he grabbed a bottle of beer and pulled up a stool. He drank appreciatively from the cool bottle relishing when the chilled beer tricked down his throat before slamming it down on the table. He was angry. Goddamnit he was so angry. He took another draught from the bottle, then another before he slammed it back down on the table again.

Resting his head in his arms on the kitchen table he sighed loudly, it had only been a week since…since...God he couldn't even say it in his head and that was what killed him the most. If _he_ couldn't talk about his father in his _head_ then how could he expect _Dean _to? God he was an idiot. An _insensitive_ idiot.

"Sam, you better not be lookin' for answers in the bottom of that bottle 'cos you sure ain't gonna find 'em." Sam looked up.

"Bobby," He muttered putting his head back into his arms

"You talk to that brother o' yours yet?"

"He won't talk to me." He raised his head rubbing his forehead as if to dispel a headache.

"Sam," Bobby started sadly. "You just gotta let Dean deal with this by himself. I mean, you know your brother better than I do, he needs to do this on his own right now." The older man advised gently lowering himself into a seat next to Sam. He picked up the nearly empty bottle and took a swig.

"So what I just leave him out there? I just leave him to work on the car when we should be talking, trying to get through this?" Sam asked incredulous.

"For now, yeah." Bobby replied solemnly. "You forget that Dean loved you father just as much as he loves you well…maybe your father a little less than you but it's just as hard for him to talk about John, probably harder…He won't be like this forever Sam…He'll talk when he's ready."

"Yeah, I guess. I just…I wish he would just talk to me _now_, I mean it can't be healthy for him to bottle up what he's feeling, and I know that's what he'sdoing because _hell_ that's what _**Dean Winchester**_ does…" He laughed bitterly but it came out as more of a choked sob. "That's what he always does…"

"Just be patient with him. You gotta let him heal a bit yet." Bobby said softly gripping Sam on the shoulder before standing up taking the beer bottle with him.

"Don't do what your Dad did after Mary, don't drown your sorrows Sam." Sam sighed sadly and nodded to Bobby.

"Thanks Bobby."

"Anytime Sam"

There was a beat of silence. Then another before Bobby spoke again.

"Do you want something to eat?" He asked "I got burgers in the freezer."

"Yeah thanks." He replied turning his head to look out of the window. The sky had turned darker the clouds had closed in around the junk yard. There was a rumble of thunder before a shower of rain fell from the sky. He was glad it wasn't drizzle. That reminded him of after their dad's funeral. It reminded him of when Dean was dying. It reminded him of death. But this was no shower of rain to pass soon. This was a storm. The storm had come and-

"_Shit_! Dean!" Sam exclaimed shooting up from his seat and pulling his thin coat on. "I'll be back in a minute Bobby."

"Sure thing Sam I'll get some towels for you boys when you get back, by the look of that rain you're gonna be dripping wet."

"Thanks," Sam breathed before darting out of the door and into the rain then pulling his flimsy jacket tighter around his neck he ran towards Dean and the Impala.

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"Dean?" Sam called rounding the corner of broken down rusty cars. He hadn't been able to hear Dean working on the car on the way up to him like he usually could but that could be due to the rain. 

"De-" He began again but stopped mid-sentence, a choked gasp of shock came from his half open mouth as he stopped walking.

Glass was the first thing that Sam noticed. Glass and busted out windows. The rain was tapping on the broken shards of glass on the ground. Then his dazed look fell upon the crowbar by the trunk of the Impala. Something didn't feel right. He glanced up slightly looking at the trunk.

_**Oh god.**_

He walked forwards towards the Impala his blurring vision fixed on the trunk of the car and a flicker of sorrow swept through him before he was completely consumed by fear.

Where the _hell _was Dean? Snapping out of his revere he turned on his heel and searched the broken down cars surrounding them, hoping, praying that Deans face would be peering out through one of the grimy windows. Sam had not such luck. He growled, his jacket now completely soaked through and mulled over where his brother could be. _Tool shed. _Hope swept through him again and so turning on his heel he ran towards the tool shed, confident that his brother would be standing within its musty interior, laughing at Sam's current state of wetness.

The doors to the shed banged on their hinges as the wind tore through. The shed was empty. Sam turned cupping his hands to his mouth and called.

"**DEAN**!" His voice echoed longer than he had expected in the stormy weather and he prayed that his brother would answer. Only the wind and rain answered him. His vision blurred again. Dean was gone. He ran to Bobby's house, unaware that he was soaked through to the bone and flung the door open.

"_Christ _Sam, don't scare a man like that."

"_Dean's gone_!" He panted furiously.

"What do you mean _gone_?"

"I mean," He stated angrily "that he isn't in the junk yard anymore. I checked everywhere. Oh god…oh god what if he's been taken…I…I can't loose him too Bobby I can't." Sam rambled anxiously.

"Sam, nothing could have taken him, the protective borders I have in place around here wouldn't allow it. Now you go get dried off and we'll go find him together. And if he don't wanna come," He continued seeing Sam's worry "then we'll drag his sorry ass back won't we?!" Still unsure Sam shifted from one foot to another then from the stern look he received from Bobby he gave a curt nod and turned from the room.

Sam ran up the stair and into the room he was sharing with Dean. He raced to his duffle which was filled with his clothes and pulled out a pair of thankfully dry jeans and a t-shirt. Ripping his sodden shirt off himself he flung it against a wall in fury.

"_Damnit_ Dean why have you gotta do these kinds of things to me!" He muttered hoarsly. "**Shit**…shit, shit, shit!" He whispered sinking down onto his bed, head in his hands. He took a deep quivering breath before standing up and pulling the dry t-shirt onto his chilled torso. Stripping his jeans and boxers in one rapid movement he continued to change into more comfortable, clean, dry pants. Then with a curse he grabbed Dean's favourite gun off the nightstand, tucking it safely into the back of his jeans before stumbling down the stairs and pulling another coat on. He jumped into Bobby's truck shutting the door with a sharp snap.

"Lets go get that damned brother of yours."

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It was if he had been snapped out of a trance. One minute he was nowhere, floating between the line of consciousness and oblivion with no thoughts then…**BAM**…where the _hell_ was he? 

His pupils narrowed then widened to an abnormal size. His eyes looked black. And suddenly he realised that he had no idea where he was, or why he was here, wherever _here _was.

As the cold tendrils of his trance ebbed away he could gradually became aware of the cold, wet rain and wind both wrapping their wispy claws around him. It was then that he noticed the smell of blood, his blood as it ran from his now re-opened stitches on his chest. The blood had dried on the grazes and slices on his hands and arms and he sighed when he remembered why they had so suddenly appeared; it had gotten too much and he had snapped. Much like the wooden fence in Bobby's backyard. _Crap_ _Bobby…_he'd forgotten about him_. Fuck **Sam**…Christ,_ Sam was gonna kill him.

Dean sat still on the roots of the tree before he gingerly pushed himself up, leaning against it for support when the field of grass before him began spinning. Black dots danced in front of his eyes and Dean groaned closing his eyes, pressing his fingers into his temples willing the spiking pain to go away. The rain was thinning, stopping almost, and changed to a slow drizzle before it stopped completely. The sky was still clotted with clouds, the sun veiled behind them, although it probably wouldn't be long before he was staring up at the stars against the backdrop of a black velvety sky. Dean sighed and let his hands fall back to his sides, his back leaning against the gnarled wood of the oak tree he had taken up residence beside. He patted it twice, a silent thank you before he pushed off.

Taking a few unsteady steps Dean managed to walk along the road until his feet decided they didn't want to keep him upright any longer and he was forced to find another tree not five paces away to lean against for support. The clouds had thinned and the sun glared at him low in the blood red sky.

"Well that's gotta be some kinda creepy omen thingy ain't it?" He rasped, his voice gravely from his trek...hell no it hadn't been a trek it had been a fucking _marathon_. Where the hell was he again? Oh yeah, _shit_ he didn't know. Crap. _Plan. Make a plan you idiot._

"Okay Dean all you've gotta do is get back to Bobby's place and get inside without being seen, stitch yourself back together and hide from younger but very evil brother. Right. Sure. Easy..._Crap_ I'm gonna die." He muttered while walking into the middle of the country road. "Which way, which way? Left? Right? Damn don't even have a coin to flip…" He mumbled rubbing his forehead. He glanced at the floor then seeing a light trail of blood off to his right he turned and walked along the road. The sun was warm on his face as he walked the long and lonely road to his looming death. He snorted despite himself; he could be a depressing bastard at times. He pulled a half smile onto his lips before it faded in a flash of pain to his chest.

He stumbled once or twice before he was forced to stop and lean against a tree, fingers pressed harshly against his chest wound, pain shooting, spiking through his torso. It was unintentional the whimper that escaped his throat. Hearing his weakness out loud he swore loudly and pushed roughly off the tree, leaving bloody fingerprints in his wake once more. His vision blurred so he blinked heavily, swaying slightly and stopped walking. He was so disorientated that he did not realise that the sun was behind him now. Didn't realise he was walking in the wrong direction.

Suddenly the world tipped and he found himself on the floor. His body banged against the tarmac floor, head bouncing from the impact of the gravely concrete. He lay there for a moment before rolling onto his back, a small amount of blood leaking from his temple. He breathed deeply but found that it hurt his chest so took short, rapid breaths. His body was protesting, he wanted to shift behind the veil of unconsciousness and just lay there for a while, until the hurt had gone, all the pain, the scars, the memories…He could feel every rock, piece of gravel, glass and all that other shit digging into his back and legs painfully but he didn't care, he let himself drift to that veil he so desperately wanted to be behind. His last conscious though was of guilt. He couldn't let Sam in. Not this time like he so desperately sought. He can't use his support. Sam can't make it okay for him, can't just be there for him. He was guilty because he couldn't share his burden of guilt and grief with his brother, because the intensity and measure of his grief and guilt would kill him, he had so much to bear and he was only one man.

A solitary tear traced down Dean's cheek unnoticed and into his now bloodied ear before he surrendered to the black tendrils of oblivion that he had only just managed to fight off, his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

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Waaah! Next chapter coming soon! Please review! I'd like to hear your thoughts on this. What would you like to happen next?? I need inspiration! Review, review!!

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	3. Chapter 3

A/N Yay! Chapter 3!!! Hope you like this! Sorry for the longer wait.

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Recap: _A solitary tear traced down Dean's cheek unnoticed before he surrendered to the black tendrils of oblivion that he had only just managed to fight off, his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

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**When The Heavens Cried For Him**

**Chapter 3**

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Sam sat rigid in the worn leather seat of Bobby's truck. His back was straight displaying his anger, discomfort and worry. They hadn't found Dean. They had searched the whole yard and seemingly found nothing until Sam said that he would check the fences, to see if Dean was sat there. But no, he wasn't and instead he found a broken fence with spatters of blood. Sam had nearly broken down again but had called Bobby over.

"Shit Sam," He had muttered rubbing his chin before continuing "Well, he must of gone this way, I'll bring the truck around, you see if you can get through."

So Sam had, he had scraped through the broken fence spattered with his brothers blood and looked to the road before him. It had stopped raining know, and the sun was beginning to dip behind the trees. It would be dark soon and the cold would sweep up coil around his brother if they didn't find him.

By the time Bobby found Sam it was dark and Sam was shivering despite wearing dry clothes. Sam jumped into the truck and snapped the door shut and the pair drove away. And that was what they were doing now. Searching for Dean.

Because it was so dark they nearly missed the shadowy blob at the side of the road and Sam being Sam raced out certain it was his brother. To his dismay it was a smudge of blood, a rather large smudge of blood and Sam knew instantly that Dean had been here. He glanced up at his surroundings praying for more clues as to where his brother was but was greeted with swaying trees and a cold wind. _Where the hell is he? Why for god sake has he gone? Does he hate me? Is that it? Goddamnit Dean! Fucking Hell!_

"Where are you, why have you gone?_" _He whispered softly to the wind. "...please come back to me…"

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Dean awoke in a warm bed. A warm _comfortable_ bed. Sighing the turned over, wincing at the pain before relaxing into the covers. It was then that he realised that he was bandaged up. Chest stitched back together, hands and arms bandaged up as well. He was shirtless however, but his jeans still remained on his lower body. _Shit Sammy must have found me…crap he's gonna murder me and all they're gonna find are fingers and toes. Fuck. _He closed his eyes again, relaxing into the bed before it clicked.

It only took him a moment to realise that he wasn't lying in one of Bobby's uncomfortable scratchy beds; he was in fact lying on a snug, cosy, warm and mildly springy bed. Hell no this was **not** one of Bobby's beds. He jack-knifed up ignoring the spiking pain that shot through his chest and head. He looked blearily around. _Shit where the hell was_ _he now? What was it with him and waking up in random places?_

Dean Winchester found himself in a flowery, musty smelling bedroom one that was most definitely not in Bobby's house.

_Crap._

The only furniture in the room was the bed he was lying in at the moment and a dark mahogany coloured bedside table with a flowery lamp and cup of water beside him. _Great_ _I've been picked up by another creepy family. Well Shit! _There was a window, covered by once more flowery curtains the sunlight however seeped through beneath adding a soft angelic glow to the room.

"Angelic my ass..." He muttered before sighing heartily, blinking away the sleep and tiredness. He could so easily go back to sleep right now. He could sleep forever. But he couldn't, not now. It was dark when he collapsed on the road, how many hours or days had he been here? Sam was gonna kill him. God, he must be so worried.

The flowers glared at him happily as he continued to sit up, swinging his feet so they touched the floor softly. His boots peeked out from under the bed and Dean pulled them on grimacing when his chest ached, throbbing hotly. Then with a wince he proceeded to stand up, swaying slightly before he regained his composure and steadied himself. He advanced on the mahogany door that seemed to loom before him, glancing over his shoulder with discomfort. Something didn't feel right. Where was Sam? And where the fucking hell was he? His hand rested on the cold metal doorknob, twisting it experimentally before he was greeted with a click, signifying that he wasn't actually locked in this godforsaken room.

The door swung open with a creek and Dean winced again, poking his head out of the musty smelling room. A carpeted hallway greeted him so he padded out and along the way, until he found a set of stairs. He shifted from one foot to another before slowly descending the stairs. He ignored the buzzing in his ears, the way his hands shook lightly, and the intense pain in his chest, he had to get out of here. Now! And it didn't matter if Dean Winchester had to collapse a few times on the way. Hell no!

Dean found himself in a warm, inviting, and more importantly _empty_ kitchen, the smell of coffee and pancakes drifting to his nose. Ignoring the hunger clawing at his belly he continued his great escape, striding to the door hand twitching towards the handle before a voice stopped him.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Dean froze at the sound of a middle aged woman behind him, his bare shoulders tensed and he turned slowly to face his saviour or captor. A slightly wrinkled, round face greeted him, sharp blue eyes visible under a frowning brow. The woman's messy, curled hair was tied up into a loose ponytail and she stood, hands on her hips a glare in place. Dean remained silent, face schooled blank.

"Well now honey is that anyway to thank you rescuer, by running away?" Dean snorted softly at the 'rescuer' part.

"I don't know, do I? You could be some freaky serial killer couldn't you?" He replied, shoulders still tense. The woman hooted with laughter and turned to look over her shoulder.

"Jason, he's awake." She called. _Jason, who the hell is Jason? _Dean inwardly growled. The woman turned back to Dean her pupils had narrowed and the blue of her irises had almost completely taken over the black, "Jason's my son…oh and I'm Nell…" She trailed off slightly, waiting for Dean to respond. When he didn't she looked expectantly towards him, eyes narrowed, blue irises dilating until her eyes looked black, waiting for him to respond. Dean stood shoulders still stiff and contemplated his dilemma; what possible problem _couldn't _arise from telling her his name. _Goddamnit this was so fucked up Something's off about her. _He sighed and his shoulders lost their tension as he muttered softly:

"Dean." The woman, this Nell smiled widely at him and beckoned him over towards her.

"Well now Dean, that's a lovely name. Come on Jason will get you a shirt and then you can sit down and have something to eat." Something still wasn't right. Dean could feel the hairs on the back of his neck prickle up and he became suddenly cautious of her. It was something about her eyes. But Dean couldn't think he couldn't focus. What was wrong with him? Was she doing something?

"I have to get back h-home." he stuttered over the word home but he continued "My brother, he'll be worried about me. We just recently came out of the hospital…" He trailed off at her sharp look.

"I gather that you have had some sort of accident seeing as when Jason found you, you were lying in a pool of you own blood. As for your brother, he'll just have to wait a day or two before you can stand upright without swaying on your feet." At this Dean growled, and placed a hand on the counter beside him regaining his balance. No way in hell was he going to collapse in front of her. He had to get back he needed to make sure Sammy was safe. He needed to get away from this woman and whatever freaky mojo she was working. So his mind was made up. He was leaving, whether she and this so called Jason wanted him to or not.

"I'm sorry lady but I have to leave. Now!" He replied stubbornly, arms folded across his chest face hard, eyes dark and unflinching. He stared at this woman, who simply stared back at him eyes dark and threatening. The air around Dean changed then, it was hot, and then he couldn't breathe, his legs decided that they no longer wished to hold him up, and he crumbled to the ground gasping for air. What the_ hell_ had she done to him?

"_Shit._" He swore softly a hand going to his forehead and kneading the flesh there, praying that his headache would pass, that the dizziness that had just swept over him would disappear just as quickly as it came, that the nausea that bubbled in his stomach would rest. He groaned that the darkness that was clouding the edges of his vision adamantly remained bright white. He could vaguely hear Nell muttering something to him, shouting for Jason to come quickly, trying to level him onto his back before he relaxed. His breathing became shallower, _why was it so hard to breathe all of a sudden?_ His eyes rolled to the back of his head, the whites of his eyes showing and slumped to the floor.

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"Come on Sam," Bobby said softly, gripping his arm and leading towards the kitchen of his house. "I know we couldn't find Dean, but he **will **come back. Maybe he just wanted to have a walk, you know be alone." Sam sighed and rubbed his forehead. It had been yesterday that Dean had disappeared and there was no sign of him still, almost a day later.

"How do you _know _he'll come back? I mean he's gone now, who's to say that he isn't gone for good?" Sam snarled pacing in front of the kitchen window.

"He will come back Sam," Bobby stated firmly before sitting down and staring at Sam's pacing form.

"How? How do you know?"

"Because you're here." He replied simply. Sam looked at Bobby, uncertain and shook his head before sinking tiredly into a seat. There was a long beat of silence.

"It's just…the blood." He whispered softly.

"We don't know that it was Dean, Sam." Bobby responded and Sam snorted harshly.

"Oh, it was Dean alright that stupid, stubborn, son of a bitch is always getting hurt. And I'm always the one who's left here worrying…" Bobby sighed.

"Sam you just need to calm down. I know he's your brother and you love him and all that but you can't do anything right now. Go on, go get some rest, I'll wake you if he comes back."

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Dean awoke in the same flowery room again, shirt still missing, head still pounding. He swore softly and levered himself into a sitting position ignoring the twinge of pain in his still bandaged chest. That freaky woman had done something to him he was sure. It was…was…_god_ why was it so hard to remember? He rubbed the back of his head gingerly where he hit it when he slumped to the floor, thankful that he had no stitches. He swung his feet out from underneath the flowered covers of the bed he laid on, wincing as he reached for his boots and stopped midway. A creak outside of the room grabbed his attention. He glanced to the door…there was a light underneath it and the shadow of two feet. He stared at the door numbly, unsure whether to be unbothered or severely creeped out...He chose to be _**severely**_ creeped out. Discarding the boots he stood up, grimacing at the pain that the little movement created and took a step towards the door. The feet outside moved, as if the person was shifting from foot to foot. Dean moved another step forwards, hand reaching out to the door handle. The lock clicked and that was it for Dean. He leapt for the door handle twisting it and when it failed to open he banged on the door.

"Hey, open the door." He called loudly knocking his fist onto the wood. The figure outside shifted from one foot to another then the sound of footsteps leaving drifted to Dean's ears. _Shit! They're keeping me here. Like some pet or...dude I've been kidnapped. **Holy shit!**_

"Open this door!" he shouted slamming his fist into the wood. He was greeted with silence then a muffled laugh from further down the corridor. "Open this **FUCKING** door! I swear to god if you don't open it now I will break it down myself." Dean growled angrily then lifted his foot intent on slamming it through the door when another wave of dizziness swept through him. Gasping he stumbled backwards until his legs bumped the back of the bed, where he sank down to the floor his head bumping the wooden bed slightly.

"Shit," He murmured softly, head in his hands. He sat in silence then, waiting for the dizziness to pass and after a while it did. Dean raised his head, leaning it back onto the wood of the bed.

"Dude, this is so messed up…" he whispered into the silent room. It was so quiet that he almost jumped when his phone began to ring in his jeans pocket. Pulling the phone from his pocket he looked at the caller ID then hastily answered the phone.

"Sam? Sammy is that you? Oh god you gotta help-_Shit!_" His voice was hushed and frantic. He hadn't noticed Nell enter the room and grab his phone pressing the off button swiftly. Her glare lanced into him and he could feel his head begin to pound, could feel the blood beginning to drip from his nose. He was in some deep shit when she began to chant.

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Sam walked up the stairs closing the door to his room quietly. He stared at the room in a solemn silence, his eyes blurring slightly at the sight of Dean's crumpled bed. His legs collapsed from underneath him, and he slid down the wooden door, and sobbed. Where was Dean? Why was he gone? Was it him? Is he still alive?

Sam didn't know how long he sat there, head bowed, eyes bleary but soon he hauled himself off the floor and stumbling towards Dean's bed. He stared at it for a moment, before something caught his eye. It was Sam's phone. _Shit! I could call him! Stupid, stupid, stupid!_ Hurriedly he grabbed the phone and sat down, dialling the number of his brother's phone, which he knew by heart.

The phone rang…

Sam couldn't hear it in the house…

Dean must have it…

Sam was thanking every possible god that he could when the ring didn't go through to voice mail but what he heard next almost broke him down completely.

"Sam? Sammy is that you? Oh god you gotta help-_Shit!_" His voice had been hushed, frantic and Sam thought he had heard a woman's voice. The phone was disconnected and Sam was greeted with the familiar damning tone of a phone cut off.

Dean was in trouble, someone had him, they had taken him away, and Sam was not going to take that lying down. _No way in fucking hell!_

"BOBBY!"

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A/N: Wahahahaaa! I am sooo evil! Cliff hanger of doom! Next chapter coming soon! Tell me what do you want to happen? I'm not sure whether I like where this story is going but...what do you think? Reviews please!

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